do the words in your head ever get so jumbled up
like a bushel of roses
thorns making your brain bleed dry
repeating repeating repeating
the same word over and over
rolling off the tip of your tongue like a bad aftertaste
bitter letters spewing out like when you were five and couldn't hold on any longer
making your heart pulse like the sound of all-too-fast snare drums
beating hard, tearing up your chest
you've always lived for words— your pencil on paper is the way you convey your most intimate love, so why do they make your head ache?
YOU ARE READING
CATHARSIS
Poetrythe purification or purgation of the emotions (especially pity and fear)
